


Common Enemy

by SonderQuill (underHiswings)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underHiswings/pseuds/SonderQuill
Summary: Shiro wished Allura was here. The diplomacy meeting he was supposed to chair was getting out of hand—and fast.





	Common Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shiro's Birthday Week (2018) on Tumblr. Prompt fill for Day One: Friends and Foes.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Shiro!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The meeting had started not ten minutes ago, and already everyone involved wanted to call it a day. Including Shiro.

He was starting to regret volunteering to chair this.

“Mr. Barlokk, sir,” Pidge said, sitting across from Shiro at the table, “if you put up with the Pippals for a tiny bit longer, we can unite both of you with the Coalition and then we can all go our separate ways. Sound good?” 

The towering Bulgarkian advocate crossed his arms. “Impossible,” he said. 

Shiro was quickly learning that meant no.

Pidge huffed. “It’s not impossible if you’d just listen to me—”

“Pidge,” Shiro interrupted. “If Chief Barlokk doesn’t want to have Voltron on his side against Zarkon, we can’t force him.”

The Bulgarkian grunted and said nothing. Bored and discouraged by their lack of diplomatic progress, Pidge rested her chin on one arm and quieted.

Shiro tried again. “However, may I suggest—”

“—Not if these vrocklian Pippals are in on it,” Barlokk interrupted. “They are unworthy to be our allies and cannot be depended upon. In any situation.”

Barlokk and the Pippal king, Jippa, had stopped talking to each other just three minutes into the meeting. While Matt worked with convincing King Jippa to join their cause, Shiro used all of the diplomatic techniques Allura had taught him on the Bulgarkian chief. Pidge was wedged in the middle, much to her dismay. 

“Head Chief Barlokk, please hear me out,” Shiro said. “If we only—”

“Impossible.”

Pidge ruffled. “You didn’t even hear what he was going to say!”

“That is of little importance. Any alliance with the Pippals is still impossible.”

“Ughhh.” Pidge groaned and slumped in her seat. “Since it’s so ‘impossible’ why don’t we all just go home already,” she muttered.

Shiro tried to ignore her. He had to keep pushing. “Why do the Bulgarkians hate the Pippals so much?”

Chief Barlokk scoffed. “A more suitable inquiry, Voltron Paladin, would be to ask why I hate the vaulg Jippa so much that I would forego my duty as an advocate of my people to uphold our sacred identity.”

Shiro blinked. “Okay. Why do you hate King Jippa, then?”

Barlokk’s massive fist slammed down onto the table. “Of all the game on our planet, that vaulg hunted and devoured a barwog!”

Pidge glanced over, suddenly interested again. “What’s a bar-wog?”

“Only the finest creature this side of the Quasai Moons. For every barwog, there is one of the spirits of our fallen warriors deeply intertwined.” 

Pidge cocked her head. “So they’re like warrior spirit animals. Essentially.”

“You must understand, Paladin. Barwogs are sacred. They mean everything to my people. That vaulg king desecrated one of my planet’s revered creeds! Jippa is nothing but a selfish, greedy, arrogant. . .”

As Chief Barlokk launched into another endless rant, Shiro’s attention drifted down the table. Matt was explaining something to Jippa, whose alien posture was quickly tightening with suppressed emotion, like a wound-up coil almost ready to spring. Matt didn’t seem to notice.

Shiro sighed. So tensions were rising on both ends. Why had he ever thought he could handle this?

“. . . Now, doesn’t that sound so much better than wasting all your time on something as trivial as war?” Matt finished his lecture, smiling. Shiro mentally face-palmed.

“Trivial as war?” Jippa repeated, aghast with oncoming rage. “Trivial? What would a king be without war?!”

Furious, the king jumped up from his chair and pulled a weapon on a very startled Matt. At the same time, Pidge’s bayard materialized in her hands, and she aimed at Jippa. Barlokk leveraged an alien firearm at Pidge. Shiro leapt to his feet. “Hold your fire!” 

Everyone froze.

Matt held both hands in the air, eyes wide in surprise. Pidge’s face was hard, determined, her bayard glowing a sharp, protective green. Both of the aliens were angry, though Jippa was worse. Shiro stood still, thoughts flying, Galra arm ready but unlit.

Allura had been wrong. He wasn’t ready.

Jippa seethed, his ear-like horns twitching with irritation. He glared at Pidge. “How dare you point that thing at me! I am a king!”

Pidge glared back, undeterred. “If you hurt my brother, you’ll regret it for the rest of your measly death.”

“You are threatening me?!”

Her face was hard. “Yup. And I don’t have to worry about getting my royal robes dirty.”

At Shiro’s end of the table, Barlokk was on guard, but he seemed unsure. He was armed, but he kept shifting his aim from person to person. His gunsight eventually rested on Pidge, though, apparently realizing she was the most dangerous threat right now. Smart guy.

Shiro took another slow breath. If he messed this up, someone was going to get hurt.

“Everyone, please just put your weapons down. We are not here to fight, we’re here to negotiate. Verbally,” he added.

He locked eyes with Pidge. She nodded once, complying. She’d lower her bayard, but only once Jippa left Matt alone.

Barlokk was still uneasy, though, and Jippa was angry. Barlokk could start shooting if he felt threatened—and Pidge was directly in his line of fire. With her bayard out and ready, she wouldn’t be able to pull up her shield in time if Barlokk got trigger-happy. Coran had told Shiro that Bulgarkians would not hesitate to kill someone if they thought it necessary. If Barlokk took the shot, Pidge wouldn’t stand a chance.

Shiro had studied the Castle’s files on Pippals, too. They were known for their rash, often violent behavior, and King Jippa especially was renowned for his impulsive passion. Matt had angered a king, and Jippa was not the forgiving type. If Matt moved, Jippa would strike; if Jippa hurt her brother, Pidge would stun him; and if Pidge startled Barlokk, all it would take was one squeeze of a trigger, and she’d be gone. Shiro couldn’t let her or Matt die. Not at some stupid diplomacy meeting.

He really wished Allura was here. Too bad she was chairing her own meeting on a different planet with the other paladins.

The Bulgarkians and the Pippals were both deadly, passionate fighters—it’s one reason they were such desirable allies for the Coalition—but now, Shiro just regretted asking both of them to come at once. His eagerness for defeating the Empire had smeared his focus, and now he was paying for it.

Barlokk and Jippa expected, even wanted a fight. He knew they had already been craving to try to kill each other, and now their anger was directed at his team. It was their nature to solve things through wrestling it out. He could see it in their eyes.

. . . Kind of like how he had seen it in Keith and Lance so long ago, when the new team was struggling to form Voltron for the second time. They had loathed each other as enemies, it seemed, until Allura and Coran had stepped in.

All you needed was a common enemy, Allura said afterwards. 

And she’d been right. The Blue and Red Paladins had learned to work together, and the team had learned how to form Voltron whenever they pleased.

Maybe Allura was on to something.

“Okay. You want a fight?” Shiro squared his shoulders. “Fight me.”

The room went silent.

Matt raised his eyebrows, baffled. A flash of alarm crossed Pidge’s face, then suspicion. Both the Pippal king and the Bulgarkian chief were instantly wary. Guarded. But Jippa seemed to like the sound of Shiro’s offer.

Lowering his strange weapon from Matt’s direction, the Pippal king studied Shiro intently. His eyes were hungry for a fight.

The very second Matt was clear, Pidge let her bayard vanish. Barlokk saw she was no longer a threat and turned his firearm to Shiro instead. The Bulgarkian was the only one with a weapon still ready to fire.

“Fight you,” Barlokk repeated, thinking. He shook his head. “Impossible.”

Matt snorted. “For you? Yeah, probably.”

“Matt,” Pidge hissed. “Now is not the time.”

Barlokk growled deep in his throat, and three sharp scales thrust out from his spine.

Shiro quickly intervened. “All right then, both you and the king against me. It would put the fight in your favor.” That had been his original intention, anyway, but they didn’t need to know that.

Jippa and Barlokk simultaneously began to protest.

“Wait, wait—I’m not done,” Shiro said. “Listen. I’ll make it fair. Both of you fight against me, and if you win, you’re immediately free to go back to your own planets and fight each other to your hearts’ content. Voltron will leave the Pippals and the Bulgarkians completely alone and never try to force you to make peace again. How does that sound?”

Jippa raised one rock-slanted eyebrow. “And on the unlikely chance that I lose?”

“If we lose,” Barlokk corrected harshly.

“Then,” Shiro said, “in order to protect both of your home planets from the Galra Empire, you fight with us against Zarkon and join the Voltron Coalition.”

There was a zip noise as Barlokk turned off his strange firearm. “The deal is set.”

Jippa stepped forward. “We will fight according to Pippal custom. Unarmed and to the death.”

The Holt siblings’ eyes grew to the size of golf balls.

Shiro balked. “Um, ‘to the death’ kind of defeats the purpose of allying, don’t you think?” 

Something in the two aliens’ expressions said they didn’t quite agree. Shiro plowed ahead regardless. “But, uh, definitely unarmed. That part we’ll do. Head Chief Barlokk, do you have anything to add?”

The Bulgarkian glanced around the Castle of Lions’ beautiful conference room. “It is not according to our customs to brawl in a consultation chamber. We must defeat you in the socially-appointed area.”

Shiro turned to the door. “We’ll compete on the training deck. Let’s go.”

As soon as his back was to the room, he bit his lip. If this didn’t work, not only would Voltron lose its greatest potential allies since the Olkari, but the Bulgarkians and the Pippals could lose their current independence. Worse, the Galra would turn the two races against the Coalition, forcing Voltron to fight and even destroy them. Shiro didn’t want that to happen.

As he entered the Altean training room, a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He hoped he could stay alive long enough for his plan to work.

 

0 0 0

 

The first five minutes had been awkward, but slowly the three fighters were getting the hang of things. Jippa and Barlokk had left their various weapons on the floor next to the wall, where Pidge and Matt were currently watching the fight. 

“I can’t believe Shiro made us handcuff Jippa and Barlokk together,” Matt said. “That’s like combining two atoms’ nuclei for a nuclear fusion. Bam!” He mimicked an explosion. “There goes the Castle of Lions.”

“Heh. True.” Pidge leaned back against the wall. “But I can’t believe Shiro made us handcuff him. At least they have one free hand each. He has none! The fight isn’t fair.”

She watched as Shiro ducked under the Bulgarkian’s wide arm, making Jippa whack his loath partner by accident.

“Vaulg!” Barlokk hissed in pain, using one arm to hold the side of his bruised face.

“Kitahk!” Jippa said back. “You got in my way!”

Shiro retreated to the far side of the training deck while the two aliens bickered and fought to untangle themselves. They were struggling. Shiro’s hands were bound in front of him, so most of his normal fighting style was hindered, too, but unlike them, he was adapting. 

Matt shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I’m pretty sure diplomatic fighting matches are not a thing.”

Pidge shrugged. “I’ve seen crazier.”

Shiro went back in for a strike with his foot. Barlokk’s heavy block was fumbled by three of Jippa’s lightning-fast hits to Shiro’s stomach. The Black Paladin crunched over with a wince, a hand to his stomach, and he dodged between the handcuffed aliens. His leg came up for a kick on the other side, and Jippa jumped behind Barlokk. The Bulgarkian took the brunt of the hit and stumbled.

“He had that. He could’ve hit them.” Matt leaned over to Pidge. “Why is he going easy on them? Wouldn’t it be better just to get the fight over with so they’d join the Coalition?”

Pidge hummed, studying the scene. “I don’t know. You’re right, though; he’s definitely got something up his sleeve.”

Jippa caught sight of Shiro studying them from a distance, and he bolted to his feet. Barlokk’s arm was yanked up by the movement. “Ach!”

Jippa’s eyes went from Shiro across the room to the Bulgarkian cuffed to his wrist. He crouched quickly next to Barlokk and lowered his voice.

“Wait, what are they saying?” Pidge squinted, trying to read the king’s lips. “Is that allowed?”

Matt shrugged and put up his hands. “You’re asking me? I haven’t been to an alien fighting match since—” He thought better of it. “Um, never mind.”

Pidge grimaced in sympathy.

Matt nudged her. “Hey, it’s not your fault, sis. ‘Sides, if it weren’t for you and that good old maniac over there, I wouldn’t even be here.” He gestured toward the fight, and Pidge looked.

She straightened with a gasp. “Shiro’s down!”

Matt looked, and was equally shocked. “What? How? I was just kidding!”

“I am triumphant!” Jippa’s scratchy voice shouted to the meager audience of two. Barlokk was panting hard, clearly winded and in pain. Shiro laid on his side, his back to them.

Pidge’s mind raced. The aliens had to have cheated. It was the only logical answer. Maybe they didn’t give up all their weapons, and they used one to hurt him or something? Whatever the case, he was down and he must be injured because Shiro never went down that easily.

“Shiro! Are you okay?” Pidge ran onto the training deck. Matt grabbed the Altean handcuff key-remote and sprinted after her.

Jippa stood above Shiro, gleaming with arrogance at the victory. Barlokk was dripping with icky yellow sweat as he helped the Black Paladin to his feet. Matt pressed the release button and both pairs of cuffs dropped to the ground. Pidge was already by Shiro’s side, scanning him up and down with urgency. He looked—

. . . fine? 

Sweat dripped down his face, but other than a few smudges of dirt on his armor, he was unhurt.

“How did you guys do that?” Matt asked the two aliens, bewildered.

Pidge adjusted her glasses and glanced at Shiro, who was dusting himself off and catching his breath. Was he avoiding her gaze?

“Oh, it was easy, Rebel Fighter,” Jippa crooned. “I simply gave your leader a taste of the legendary Pippal battle prowess.”

Pidge wanted to bang her head against a wall. Or better yet—bang Jippa’s head against one.

“I’ll be honest,” Shiro told the aliens, ignoring Jippa’s gaudy ego. “There for a tick, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it. But you did, and you pulled through—both of you. Good job.”

Jippa’s ear-horns bobbed with pride. He glanced disdainfully at the sweating Bulgarkian. “I wasn’t sure if Barlokk would be able to handle my outstanding battle prowess, either. If it weren’t for my sharp intellect and deadly will, I doubt he would have survived.”

Pidge muffled a scoff. The next time she had to deal with Lance’s ego, she resolved not to complain as much. It was infinitesimal compared to Jippa’s.

“I didn’t even see that last move coming,” Shiro continued to praise. “Congratulations. You win.”

Jippa didn’t look surprised in the slightest. For some reason, Barlokk did.

“We what?”

“I won, mountain-head,” Jippa said. “Which regrettably means you did as well. But because of me.”

Barlokk was only more distressed by that explanation. “But that means—”

“We get to leave, yes. We discussed this prior to the fight, Bulgarkian. Or did your tiny brain forget already?”

“Just let the guy speak,” Pidge said. “Sheesh.”

Jippa actually flustered a little.

Barlokk turned to Shiro. “We won the bargain. Does this mean that Voltron will not protect my planet?” 

“What? No,” Shiro said. “As we would anyone else, Chief Barlokk, Voltron will defend the Bulgarkians against the Galra, no matter what.”

Discreetly, Pidge leaned closer to Matt and whispered, “The Pippals . . . eh, not so much.” Matt chuckled.

The chief breathed out with relief. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Jippa said, “the Pippals certainly will not need your help to defend us. The Galra have been ruling for over ten thousand years and Pipparion is still a free planet. We won’t need your help like the Bulgarkians do.”

Pidge crossed her arms. She’d had enough. “You’re only still free because you’re practically in the boondocks of the entire universe, and your obstinacy would give even the Galra a migraine. If you lived long enough.”

“Pidge!” Matt and Shiro said at the same time.

She didn’t apologize. Jippa needed a reality check.

“Anyway,” Shiro said, sending a small glare Pidge’s way, “we will defend both of your planets regardless.”

“But without the Voltron Coalition?” Barlokk asked.

“Um, I guess?” Matt shrugged, glancing at Shiro.

Shiro shook his head. “If you don’t want to join us, no one is forcing you too. This isn’t a club. It’s war. Voltron will have your back, whatever you decide.”

Barlokk fell silent for a moment. Then he looked up with resolve. “Jippa may want to rescind, but I do not. The Bulgarkians want to fight side-by-side with Voltron, not cowering behind. Even if it meant fighting alongside the Pippals, I concede my side of the bargain. We will fight with you.”

Jippa’s toothy mouth dropped open. “Are you calling us cowards?”

“Most definitely,” Barlokk said.

Jippa’s ears twitched indignantly. There was a pause as he thought it over. 

“The Pippals will bring our prowess to the Coalition as well. You will need it if the Bulgarkians are working with you. We concede.”

“Wow, really?” Matt said. Jippa nodded firmly.

Shiro looked surprised, but something felt off about it. Pidge wondered if he had known this would happen.

Shiro glanced between the two aliens. “You realize that this means you both will have to stay with us a little longer so we can get the safety protocols established, right?”

Jippa looked at Barlokk. 

The Bulgarkian stepped forward, fist to his forehead in the custom salute for his people. “Agreed. The Empire is a big enough threat. I am strong enough to tolerate the Pippal king, for my people.”

Jippa looked at Matt, Pidge, and then finally at Shiro. After another moment of hesitation, he said, “I will grant it also. I can put up with the Bulgarkian, however rude and insensitive he may be.”

Matt and Pidge looked at each other, the same expression of disbelief mirrored on the other’s face.

“You might have to fight alongside not just your people, but each other, too. Are you sure?” Shiro pressed.

Barlokk nodded, his face grim. “Certainly. Besides, our fight against you proved that we can, somehow, work together for something we both desire. Fighting Zarkon is a cause much larger than simply not having to see each other again. I believe we will be able to manage.”

Jippa cackled. “As long as I’m around to explain how, then yes, I give my approval of that statement.”

“I could have been victorious without you,” Barlokk said.

“Against a little water bug, perhaps. But if I hadn’t laid out the plan, we would not have won.”

“You are not a past-seer, Jippa. We do not know what might have happened.”

“I told you what to do, as is my Uthar-given profession of king, and we succeeded. What better evidence is that?”

“I performed my duty as Advocate Chief to gain our victory by putting aside my pride to assist you. Which seems to be an ability you are incapable of.”

“Ooh, burn. . .” Matt whispered to Pidge. She smirked.

Jippa ruffled. “I am not incapable of putting aside my pride! As king, I simply don’t need to.”

Shiro glanced at Matt and Pidge, then back at the two bickering aliens who were at it again. The corner of his lip kept twitching, like he was struggling to keep a straight face.

Pidge stepped up next to him. The Chief of Advocacy and the King of Pipparion were so caught up in their argument that she doubted they would realize if even a siege happened right now. Unlike when they had first arrived, however, their tones were now filled with more banter than true hatred.

“Alright, spill.” Pidge elbowed Shiro. “I knew you were up to something. How’d you do it?”

Shiro’s expression was entirely too innocent. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

Shiro deadpanned. “Impossible.”

Matt chuckled.

“Stop encouraging him, Matt,” Pidge huffed. Then she realized. “Oh, no. You were using Allura’s teambuilding techniques, weren’t you?”

Shiro shrugged, nonchalant, but there was a sparkle in his eye. “Maybe.”

“The food fight. How did I miss that?” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “Well, I for one like your version better. The fight without the food is a lot cleaner. I had to take three showers to get that food goo out of my hair. Three!”

“Yeah,” Shiro grinned at the memory of that day. “And that was back when food goo was just weird, green alien grub, so . . . even more gross.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Matt laughed.

“You don’t want to know,” Pidge said. “Trust me.”

Matt scrunched his lips over to the side. A beat.

“No,” Pidge said. “The fact that I said that does not make it sound better.”

“But. . .”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“But—”

“Matt, I’m not going to tell you.” 

He huffed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Fine.”

Shiro watched the two Holts with a mild grin. Matt went back to observing Barlokk and Jippa, who were still deep in the throes of their half-heated dispute. Pidge studied her brother with suspicion; she knew there was a catch.

A few ticks later, Matt succumbed to an impish grin. “I’ll just ask _Lance_.”

“ _Ughhh_.” Pidge groaned.


End file.
